


Returning Mine

by stickyrice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mollcroft, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-05 13:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1820533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickyrice/pseuds/stickyrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they’re yours</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, sadly.
> 
> This is my first fic that I have written, so please be kind. 
> 
> This will turn into a series eventually.
> 
> Happy readings.

It was John and Mary’s anniversary party; a small, intimate gathering of friends and family. There was food, music, dancing and laughter; the atmosphere full of celebration and merriment.

  
With the final notes of the song, it ended and I could not be any more grateful to pull away from Tom; my hand trailing down his arm as I stepped away. Tom, dear Tom, dear sweet, uncomplicated Tom. He was nice, kind, open and honest; everything that he wasn’t, everything that I was looking for in a man. Then why was I miserable, why could I not stand the doting or the puppy dog adoration.

  
With a bright smile, Tom told me that he wanted a drink. Grasping my hand he led me through the crowd to the bar. Glancing back as we made our way to the bar, I flashed him a small smile that did not quite reach my eyes when I noticed him looking. As he once again focused on our destination my eyes kept darting around the room, searching, willing him to appear.

  
As if hearing my inner thoughts, I felt him more so than saw him the moment he stepped into the room, his air of importance imposing as always, the clean, elegant cut of his suit, a stark contrast to the more casual nature of the celebration, his sharp blue/grey eyes assessing, reading, searching the crowd. With a quivering heart, and the feel of lead in my stomach, I ducked my head avoiding his attention before our eyes could meet.

Knowing how much he loathed social function, a weary smile founds its way to my lips. Mycroft Holmes, ever the gentleman would not turn down a heartfelt invitation, even if it was to a celebration of one of his baby brother, Sherlock’s friends.

  
It had been six months since I had last seen him, and I could still feel my heart quicken, my breath catch, and the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end when I felt his gaze settle on me. I did not think that I would still have such a strong reaction just to his mere presence, after so long, after I had moved on and found Tom, but the way my body betrayed me left no doubt that it still craved Mycroft Holmes.

  
Coming back into focus on the man in front of me, I knew Tom was saying something, but for the life of me I could not register a word that he had said to me in the past few minutes. I forced my body to turn towards him, and absently nodded my head and hummed in agreement as if I had been listening to him the whole time. For the life of me I could not concentrate on the drivel that was coming out of his mouth.

  
At last, I was saved from having to actually contribute to a conversation that I had no idea about; a few people that we had met at the party had wandered over towards us and joined the conversation, or more aptly Tom talking at me. With words of football, economy, and traffic congestion breaking through my fog every now and again, I was startled when I felt someone’s presence behind me. Hoping against hope that it was him, I felt my heart beat quicken as i turned around to see who it was, only to find that it was John.

With all of the party’s goings on, I had barely said a hello to John before he was whisked away to mingle with other guests. With a tone that brooked no argument John informed the small group that he was not going to let the DJ’s talents go to waste and walked led me onto the dance floor.

  
Finding a spot on the dance floor that was not too crowded I slipped my hand into John’s and we swayed slowly to the soft, slow music that was playing, John doing his best to engage me in conversation as we danced. All the while distracted as I could feel his acute, hot gaze burn into me from somewhere at the periphery of the room.

  
A slight shiver ran through my body at the weight of his stare, and I shook my head slightly to clear the fog that was addling my thoughts. When I glanced at John to see if he had noticed, I saw him staring expectantly back at me. With a deep blush at being caught out, I stammered an agreement to whatever question that I thought he had asked. Looking at me skeptically and with his eyebrows practically in his hairline John questioned, “So you agree that Sherlock would look dashing in a pink frilly tutu. What has gotten into you lately Molly, you have seemed awfully distracted as of late. Are you all right?”

  
Shaking my head so vigorously that it didn’t even take a Holmes to deduce that I was lying, I replied (rather to quickly and adamantly I might add), “Of course, of course I am alright. It’s just been rather stressful lately at Bart’s”.

  
Forcing my eyes away from John’s searching ones (he is spending way too much time with Sherlock, his stare makes me feel like he can see right through me; see what I am thinking even before I have even thought it), and plastering on, what I hoped to be a convincing smile, we continued to dance silently.

  
My mind began to drift. Images and memories of the stolen moment; the heated nights and the secretive meetings with Mycroft passed before my eyes, and it took all my self control not to let the tears of longing and loss slip down my face. Until now, I had resolutely resolved to not thinking about it, about him. But now with the weight of his stare following my every move and his presence so tangible, it was impossible not to.

  
Abruptly coming back to my senses I noticed with a deep blush that we had stopped moving for some time. Ducking my head I hear the worry in John’s voice as he bent closer to whisper in my ear, “Always know that if there is anything that I can do, anything that you need, do not hesitate to come to me. I am your friend Molly; I care about you and just want to help”

  
With that he gave a final, reassuring squeeze to my hands and went in search of his wife.

  
Feeling bereft, I wandered outside, hoping the cool night air would clear my addled thoughts and help to ground me in the present. Wandering out to the back garden, I took the meandering moonlit path to the stone bench that I had noticed earlier.

  
My eyes downcast, I was saddened to notice a long shadow taking up the space that I was headed towards. “Oh I’m sorry to disturb you” I mumbled morosely “I didn’t think that this space would be occupied”. Without lifting my head, I did not register the quick intake of breath or the head whipped in my direction as I made to turn around and walk back inside to the party.

  
“You know how I hate crowds and being forced to make frivolous small talk” the figure drawled. I felt my breath catch, my heart freeze, and my knees go weak as the familiar voice washed over me.

  
“M-Mycroft” comes a stilted whisper from my lips that doesn’t quite sound like my own voice, barely audible even in the still of the night. But never one of miss even the faintest of whispers (that is his profession after all), heard me and tentatively took a step towards me.

“I um ... how have you been?” he said awkwardly, as if he couldn’t deduce it for himself.

  
“Fine, fine... good” I choked out with a nod of my head, as though somehow the action would belay more conviction in my words. Sneaking a glance at him, my heart clenched in my chest; he looked exactly the same as the last time I had seen him that night in my flat those 6 months ago. With a choked sob stuck in my throat, the memories of that night came rushing back. It was maybe 3 months before Sherlock returned. His face pale and drawn, the freckles that dusted his nose and cheeks a stark contrast. He stood silhouetted just inside my door, eyes downcast, refusing to catch my gaze, telling me that it was over; that it could never have worked; that men like him didn’t get happily-ever-afters; that I deserved better, deserved someone who could be open and honest, never left me wondering when or if they would be coming home that night, someone who didn’t put me in danger just being associated with him. I felt my eyes prickle with tears at the memory. At the time and thereafter for a while I was crushed, absolutely devastated, and didn’t see his parting for what it really was; didn’t see the heart break and anguish that flashed ever so briefly across his face. It was his way of protecting me (always trying to protect me), from the ‘what-ifs’ that came with his job serving his country and his baby brother.

“I saw you inside...”

“That was Tom, we’re together, have been for a while actually” I rushed out, interrupting him. I tried to muster a smile, something to make him think that being with Tom was better for me, that we were... that I was happy and had moved on, that my life did not revolve around one Mycroft Homes and didn’t need him in to be happy. More than that though, I wanted, needed to know that he really didn’t want me in his life, that he had meant those words all that time ago.

With the darkness and shadows it was hard to discern, but I saw even though it was ever so slight; the tensing of his shoulders, the twitch of his hand and the flash in his eyes.  
Clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets he replied tersely, “I see. Well, I am ... glad for you.” His voice was devoid of any emotion and the Ice Man mask slipping firmly in place.

“Are you?” I asked, disappointment creeping into my tone.

His head shot up, “Of course I am. My only wish is for you to be happy Molly”

The sound of my name rolling off of his tongue made me shiver.

“I-I am” I said looking away. My whole being fighting the lie that slipped from my lips. Why couldn’t I tell him the truth; tell him how much I missed him; how forgetting him was not an option; that no matter the times of uncertainty and doubt, the moments they shared were 10 times anything that she could have with Tom or anyone else.  
How I longed to reach out and touch him, to feel the tingle when our skin touched; to feel his arms around me making me feel protected and loved; to look up into his eyes and know that he sees me, all of me.

The months leading up to Sherlock’s return was when things started to change between us, he started to pull back and become more distant. At the time I didn’t think much of, what with his job and the stress that follows. He hadn’t been actively ignoring or avoiding me, but he was quieter, subdued and always seemed to be lost in thought when we were together. And then one night he just dumped me and I did not hear from him or see him until Sherlock returned to London. Looking back, I should have known that although he detested legwork, there was nothing he would not do for his baby brother, up to and including having to go in personally to pull Sherlock out of trouble. Deep down, I know why he did it, why he broke up with me, the save me the pain and despair if things went tits up and he didn’t return; that he was letting me go so that I would be saved from worry and unhappiness.

At the time, I had felt like a complete fool thinking that someone like Mycroft Holmes would want to be with someone like me. I have felt the utter loss and loneliness of heart break time and time again, but when I was with him, things were different, I felt like I matter, like I counted. But then when i was finally starting to think that maybe it was okay to start dreaming of a future with him, be dealt me that crushing blow, as if I was of no consequence to him, as if I didn’t count.

After all this time, with no contact; with me being with Tom, I had thought that I had finally gotten Mycroft Homes out of my system, that he was just another faint memory on my road of heart ache, but I was most definitely wrong.

With a tense and awkward silence that had descended upon us, both of us fighting some inner turmoil. He let out a resigned sigh, “Well it was good to see you again Molly... you look very lovely tonight”

“Take care” he said with a slight, sad smile, his had slightly raised as if he were going to brush it along my cheek (like he use to), but thinking better of it let his hand drop away.

He took a step to move past me, his back to me as he made to go back inside to the party.

Frozen to the spot, two options raced through my mind. I could say nothing and let him walk out of my life again (like last time) and I could settle for predictable, uncomplicated, boring Tom, or I could stand up for what and who I wanted and not let anyone, not even him dictate how I should live my life.

“I’m really not you know” I practically shouted, the nervous energy bubbling up in me. He stopped abruptly as if running into an invisible barrier. Ever so slowly he turned towards me again, as if any fast or unexpected movement might scare me away and ruin the moment.

“You are not what,” came his strangled whisper, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

“I’m not alright; I haven’t been alright for a while” I saw with a quiver in my voice. “I can’t do this; I can’t move on, I don’t want to.”

With slight anger and adrenalin coursing through my body I added boldly, “And where do you get off trying to dictate what was best for me. Telling me as if I were some wayward child what love is and who is most appropriate to love”

Angrily I swiped at the tears now coursing down my face, “Please don’t leave me, don’t walk away again” I said brokenly. There I had laid myself bare to him, for better or for worse I would get my answer from him tonight. My heart would always belong to him, whether he chose to keep and cherish it or toss it away was his prerogative.

I waited with baited breath for him to do something, say something, anything but stand there staring at me. The longer the seconds stretched out the most I felt my heart sinking and despair settling in. But what game me a glimmer of hope was the torrents of emotions that I saw flicker in his eyes. It was hard to discern what he was thinking with such an onslaught of emotion but at least he was allowing me to see something of the true him, and not the Ice Man. His eyes searched my face, reading me, seeing into the very depths of my soul.

Finally after what had felt like an eternity his lips parted ever so slight, his tongue flicking over them. He made no move towards me and I could feel my heart breaking, sure that he was going to utter his regrets and once and for all crush the little hopes I had left for us. But then he took a tentative step towards me and then another and another until there was barely an inch between us. Taking my hands into one of his and raising his other to caress my cheek, he lowered his head so that his lips were just a breath away from mine; I knew that we would be okay. We had let each other go but have somehow found our way back to each other. He had returned to me, for me, and I will not let him go again, he is mine.


	2. Chapter 2

The moon was full, bathing everything in a silver glow, casting long shadows and sparkling off of reflecting surfaces. A slight breeze began to pick up that that made the flowers sway as if dancing, and the leaves in the trees rustle, adding to the symphony of nature.

Standing so close together, Mycroft could feel her body press into his; he could feel the bush of her bare legs, heat soaking through his trouser legs; he could feel the press of her breasts against his chest, and her hot breath caress his lips. Dropping her hands, and circling his arm low on her waist, above the small of her back, with a slight gasp at the contact, she was moulded to his strong frame.

Feeling the rough material brush against her, Molly gave a contented sigh, and melted into him. Bringing her hand up to his chest, she caressed the cloth covered planes of his broad chest and let her hand settle between them, hand on his heart, feeling the quick, steady beat of him.

The hand that was caressing her cheek, slid down to trace the outline of her jaw, leaving in its wake a fiery trail of desire that spread throughout her body, making her fingers tingle and her stomach clench. When his deft fingers reached her chin, with slow, gentle pressure, her tilted her face up towards his.

Soulful, deep brown eyes met electric, steely blue/grey. They stood like that for what seemed like hours, drinking in the sight of the other. Mycroft committing to memory the way the moonlight shone off her hair making in gleam, the shy, yet trusting, loving smile that graced her lips, and the way that the night illuminated her alabaster skin. His breath hitched in his throat as he took her in, as he admired her beauty, and thanked the gods that she had chosen him.

The sound of his sharp intake of breath tore Molly’s attentions away from observing the play of emotions that flashed in his eyes, and drew her attention to his slightly parted lips. Feeling embolden and drunk off of the scent of spice and sandalwood that permeated him and filled the space between them, Molly extended her neck, and reached up, eyes fluttering closed, and let her lips gently brush against his.

His head was spinning, the brush of her lips sending electric jolts through his system, making all of his sense even more hyperaware of the slight woman in his arms. It took every ounce of his famed self control not to crush her to him and bruise her lips with his.

As he felt the flick of her tongue against his lips, all of his carefully crafted control shattered; it was not enough to just feel her sweet lips on his, he wanted, need to taste her. Pinning her to the nearest tree, to obscure them from view, the pair of intertwined bodies blended into the shadows of the night.

Wrapping her firmly in his arms to cushion the impact, he crushed her to him, feeling the contours of her body fit snugly to his. She let out a surprised squeak at the impact and clung to him, as if she let go he would disappear and she would wake from this moment that felt like a dream.

Noticing the wonder and wistfulness in her eyes, he ran a reassuring hand up her back, and immediately saw the tension leave her body, as if that one action cemented in her mind that he was not going anywhere; that this was not a dream.

That reassuring hand caressed up her back and wound its way up her smooth, pale neck, to bury itself in her long, silky hair. The feeling of his hand sliding up her neck to tangle into her hair sent a shiver through her body, and stoked the flames of desire that made a soft whimper fall from her lips.

Encouraged by her reaction to his ministrations, and the burn that he saw in her eyes, he lowered his mouth to hers while giving her a gentle tug forward. Needing to taste her, his lips parted and his tongue snaked out to trace the outline and seam of her lips. Molly let out a strangled gasp through her parted lips. The sounds that fell from her lips lit his body afire with need, and with a low rumbling growl, Mycroft crashed his mouth down upon hers, tongue pushing past her parted lips, hard; demanding; searching.

Molly reached up and wrapped her arm around his neck and one to the back of his head pulling him harder into her, willing and body urging him to deepen the kiss if at all possible. Sliding her fingers through his hair and raking her nails against his scalp, she felt his body shudder, and herself being pressed more firmly against the tree and his hips bucking slight into her.

Pulling back slightly from the kiss, Mycroft trailed his lips across her jaw to lap and bite down gently on her ear, drawing a low moan from the back of her throat. Both panting and dizzy from the kiss, they stood clinging to each other, memorizing and soaking in the moment, trying to regain some semblance of control.

His breath coming out hot and raspy against her ear, clouded with lust, he breathed “Give our regards to our gracious host, we’re leaving, now”


	3. Chapter 3

Giving her ear one last nip just to feel her sensitive body shiver against his, he tugged her away from the tree with reluctance. With his hot gaze he searched her face, and gave a slight nod as if searching and finding what he was looking for. Reaching up he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, slid his hands down her arms, feeling the goose bumps along her arms, from the slight chill in the air or a physical reaction to their touch, he did not know but would like to think it was the later, he took her hands into his, clutching them tightly, not wanting to let her go.

The grip that he had on her hands was to the point of almost being painful, however she was not going to protest, the sensation made this all feel that much more real; his strength made her feel safe; secure; needed, as if she was the lifeline that he needed and depended on.

“In 5 minutes, meet me out front, I will have a car waiting” he told her as he hotly let his gaze memorize her face and graceful curves.

Unblinkingly she returned his stare; her lips slightly parted, and unconsciously ran her tongue along her kiss swollen lips. With a guttural moan, he quickly tugged her towards him into another bruising kiss. Coming out of the kiss slowly, he shook his head, as though wondering where all of his self control had gone to. Needing to put actual physical space between them, as if that would lessen the attraction and overwhelming lust, dropped her hands and took a step back.

“What you do to me, my Molly, will never cease to amaze me” he said with a small smile of wonder on his lips.

“Go now to say your goodbyes because I fear that if we linger any longer, what little restraint I have left will cease to be no more, and I would rather not put on any more of a show for my PA” he said with a slight nod towards a CCTV camera that was that was just outside the doors of the party room.

With a slight gasp she whirled around to see the camera that she had not noticed previously. Blushing deeply, she gave a nod and a reassuring squeeze to his hands (whether it was for her or for him she did not know), and moved to go back into the party to make her excuses and thank John and Mary for inviting her. No one would notice if he had come or gone, but Molly, his bright and vibrant Molly, would surely be missed if she were to have suddenly left the party without word.

Re-entering the party, Molly let her eyes scan the room quickly, trying to spot the pair without being overly obvious. Upon seeing them, she let out a breath she did not know she was holding and her feet hurriedly took her to them.

Noticing the woman that was coming their way, Mary’s eyes widened a fraction upon seeing her. Using her keep (assassin eyes I might add), Mary noticed her slight tousled hair, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips with a smirk. So that is where she had gotten off to, well good for her, Mary thought.

“John, Mary, I just want to say how lovely the party is and how happy I am for you both, I love you both so much and I am so proud of you. I just want to say thank you for inviting me to the party it was fantastic” Molly said to the pair with a brilliant smile lighting up her face as she thought about all the event that had unfolded this evening.

“We... I mean I have to get going unfortunately, um ... working calling and all that. Well bye and thanks again” she rushed out with a blush as she noticed the look in Mary’s eyes as her slight slip of the tongue.

“Oh, yes of course. Thanks for coming Molly, we appreciate all the support that you have given us” John said, taking Molly’s words at face value.

“Oh, yes run along, you mustn’t keep the MAN waiting, figuratively speaking that is” Mary replied with a wink that caused Molly to blush 10 shades darker. Not knowing what was going John swung a confused look from one woman to the next, trying to figure out what was going on.

With a nod goodnight she turned to leave, when as if jolted back to memory from the party Molly spun back to the pair, eyes wide with a look of horror on her face. Looking around the room wildly she searched for Tom. Turning back to the pair “H-have you by any ch-chance seen Tom?” she stuttered out.

Shaking his head John replied “Actually he was looking for you early, but I haven’t seen him since”

“O-Ok thanks. Anyways duty calls. Thanks again you two” With that she practically fled the building, all thoughts of Tom gone from her mind when she noticed the clock and that her 5 minutes were at an end.

Rushing out front, a familiar black car was waiting and ready to take her away with her love. Mycroft standing by the car offered her a small smile and outstretched his hand to her. With a smile that was meant to convey all of her love for him she took his offered hand. With a lingering kiss to the back of her hand, he helped her into the car, hand trailing over her back and hip as she sank into the car. Closing her door, he went around to the other side to get in. When settled into the car he picked up her hand that lay between them and brought it to his lips. Home is where the heart is, and he had been away from home for far too long, he thought as he drank in the emotions of love that was pouring out of this spectacular woman.

Unbeknownst to the pair, dark, hollow, manic eyes had been watching them from the shadows. The sight of the pair together, filling the figure with unrestricted rage and hatred, that left him shaking. With a deranged twist of his lips he stalked away silently, a mantra of words fueling his desire for revenge; liar, traitor, deceiver, betrayer.


	4. Mine

Once settled in the car, Mycroft directed the driver to take them back to his home. The tension in the car was palatable; there was a thick fog of wanton lust, desire, and need that hung between the pair. Not one spoke a word, as if in a trance that only included an awareness of the other. There was a hyper awareness of the other that they both felt; the heat that almost burned where their knees touched; where their shouldered brushed up against each other; and the heady aroma of both his spicy cologne mingling with the fresh citrus of her perfume, only further serve to make the other drunk with need and longing. 

Taking her hand into his, he raised it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse jump at the contact of his lips. Keeping his eyes solely trained on here face the whole time, he watched as her pupils dilated further, the colour of her eyes almost disappearing completely, replaced with swirling dark pools that threatened to swallow him. With one last kiss to her wrist, he pulled her closer to him. Molly more than obliging, snuggled to fit snugly to his side with a contented sigh as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

Arriving at his home, Mycroft exited the car, reaching a hand down to help her out of the car. With a parting nod to the driver, the pair made their way up the front steps and into the house, never once letting go of each other.

Entering the foyer ahead of him, Molly was a bundle of nervous energy; the lust was still there, but it was now tempered with a nervous anticipation and a slight fear that at any moment she would awaken from this dream. 

Closing the door behind him, he turned to admire her silhouette that was outlined in the darkness. As his eyes swept over her form, he read the tension and nervousness in the fiddling of her hands and the tenseness of her shoulders. Wanting to set her fears aside, he sidled up behind her, running his hands up her arms to settle them on her shoulders. Applying slight pressure to her tense shoulders, he was rewarded with a soft groan from her lips, as she shifted back to lean slightly against him. 

Encouraged, he swept her hair to the side, exposing her neck and shawl covered shoulders. Leaning down he brushed his nose against the side of her neck, nuzzling and inhaling the scent that at was distinctly her. Dropping feather light kisses to her neck, his hands continued to massage and kneed the muscles of her shoulders. 

Needed to expose more of her skin for him to kiss; to taste, he removed the shawl from her shoulders, his lips following the material as it was pulled across and off her shoulders. Absently he reached behind him to hang it on the peg by the door. Even fogged with lust everything had its proper place. 

Encircling his arms around her waist, he pulled her firmly against his front; the distinct bulge in his pants coming into firm contact with her shapely behind, making them both moan at the contact. 

Biting down at the tender junction where her neck and shoulder met, Molly let out a hiss that soon turned to a quiet whimper as he soothed the sting with a swipe of his tongue. Shuddering, she instinctively ground herself back against him. Panting, he bucked his hips into her bottom, his grip around her waist tightened to still her movements, least their reunion be cut short. 

Finally, after a few drawn out second, he turned her around to face him, and as she spun around her hand instinctively came up to rests against his chest. 

Tilting her chin up so that he could stare into her eyes, hopefully his conveying all of the emotions that he felt for her, he dipped his head to place a kiss upon her lips. What started off slow and tender, very quickly turned heated and frenzied once again. 

Hands gripping fabric and fisted into hair, him seeking and winning dominance as he darted his tongue into her warm mouth, tasting every inch of her. 

One of the hands at her waist dropped to her bottom, and with a slight dip of his knees, he scooped her up into his strong arms. Breaking the kiss ever so slightly, she let out a surprised squeak and warped her arms around his neck. With a smug quirk of his lips, he carried her up the stairs. 

Setting her down gently on her feet at the end of his bed, he took in the he vision in front of him. Hair mused, lips swollen from his kisses, and a deep blush staining her chest and cheeks, he could not think of anything more beautiful that he'd seen in his lifetime.

Smiling at him tenderly, she took a step towards him, running her hands up his buttoned front up to his shoulders, and sliding his suite jacket down and off his arms, to pool at his feet. All the while he watched her silently with fire burning in his eyes. 

Grasping his tie, Molly drew him down to her level, she tilted her head and kissed him, slipping her tongue past his lips and into his mouth. 

Noticing still that he still had on an exorbitant amount of clothing, she growled "I swear to god Mycroft Holmes, if you still want that expensive suite in one piece I suggest you get out of it now, I won't be held responsible hereafter. There really is something to be said about less is more."

Picking up his jacket and laying it on the back of a chair, they both rid themselves of their cloths. Finishing sooner than Mycroft, Molly lay back against the headboard, watching as each layer came off to reveal more skin. 

Mycroft was not skinny and wiry like Sherlock, but he was by no means fat like the latter always suggested. He was a bit soft around the middle, but his arms were nicely toned, suggesting he might do things a little more hands on then he otherwise lets on. He had a broad back and shoulders that belayed a hidden strength, a trim waist and muscular thighs, and what an ass. 

Sweeping her eyes back up, she was abashed to notice that he had in fact noticed her checking him out. Spreading his arms out wide and making a show out of a slow turn, "Look you fill then" there was laughter in his voice, which only served to add to her mortification. 

Facing her once more, his eyes turned serious as he took in the sight of her. Climbing up the bed, he trailed his fingers lightly up her legs, drawing invisible patterns on her calves and then her thighs. All the while feeling the heat coming off of her and the goose pimples raising on a her skin in the wake of his touch. 

His hands bypassed where she wanted them most, to glide up the planes of her stomach to her rounded breasts. There he spent a bit more time on the exploration of her body. He tested the weight of each breast in his hand, while using the pad of his thumb to caress her pert nipples into firm peaks. Licking his lips he lowered to mouth to place a kiss at her heart, and the began to tail his kisses from one breast to the other, "So beautiful" he murmured. 

The way she arched her back and drew him more firmly to her when he licked her nipple, tasting her flesh, then covered it with his mouth, sucking and licking simultaneously, whilst one hand teased the other breast, rolling her pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger, made what ever little blood was left in his brain flee south. 

With an insistent tug of his hair, Molly desperately brought his mouth up to her's, taking advantage of his startled inaction, she drew him into a kiss full of passion and need. Groaning, he let her devour his mouth and covered her body with his; grinding his hard length into her hip.

Kissing her fiercely, he let one of his hands trail down her body to the apex of her thighs. The hot, wet heat that was coming off of her body was dizzying. His long, dexterous fingers parted her folds and delved into the heat he discovered, plunging in and out of her, while his thumb insistently circled and rubbed her swollen clit. 

Breaking the kiss she gasped his name as she began to feel her body climbing higher and higher towards completion; her inner walls quivering and fluttering around his fingers. 

At the sound of his name, breathlessly falling from her lips like a prayer, his hand stilled. Blinking back the stars that had begun to creep into her vision, panting she looked at him questioningly "Mycroft?" She questioned, her voice thick with need and trembled with lust.

"Say it again Molly, say my name again. Tell me what you need" He said, his voice rough and deep.

With a tender smile on her lips and taking the inner strength that being with him provided, she traced a hand along his cheek and down his jaw, "Please Mycroft, I need you; I need to feel you in me" she whispered thickly.

Crashing his lips to her's and kissing her with abandon, he positioned himself above her body and she reached a hand between them to guide him into her waiting body.

She could do little more than gasp his name as he sheathed his full length into her hot, wet depths. With Herculean strength he kept himself still as she adjusted to his size. Stroking her cheek, he looked down intently into her eyes, waiting for the subtle shift that would indicate she was ready. Noticing it, he began to move, building a slow, almost agonizing rhythm, drawing the pleasure out for both of them. 

Her every nerve ending felt as if it was on fire; the rest of the world falling away, and nothing existed outside of this moment, this man. She moved with him; their bodies falling into the familiar beat, rise and fall that no length of time away could diminish. 

With an urgency built out of the building pleasure that fought to pusher towards her climax, she wrapped her legs around him, and clutched on to his back, her finger nails leaving little red crescents in his flesh.

Sensing her impending climax, he lengthened his thrusts, pulling almost all the way out, only to drive his hips forward hard and deep, touching her in all the places that only he knew how. 

Her eyes started to flutter close at the sheer pleasure that was courting through her body. 

"Open you eyes" He growled. Trusting him with her vulnerability she complied, forcing her eyes to stay open, when all they wanted to do is roll back into her head. "I'm never letting you go again Molly Hooper. You're mine and I want you to look at me when I make you mine" 

Spurred on by his possessiveness, for if she was his, he was most surly her's, she titled her hips up a little further; the change of angle allowing him to hit that spot that made her inner muscles clench around his hard length. 

"Yesss" she hissed out. "Please, don't stop" she gasped as she racked her nails down his back to grab at his ass, pulling him tighter, deeper into her.

"Never, love. Never" he ground out through clenched teeth, barely holding onto his control, wanting to feel her shatter around him before he surrendered and fell into oblivion with her.

Reaching a hand down between them, Mycroft ghosted his fingers around her swollen nub, not yet touching her where she most desired, and eliciting a whimper of need from her. "Say you're mine, and mine alone"

"Please Mycroft. I'm yours, always yours." She pleaded with him, almost incoherent with need and lust. 

Surging his hips forward, he buried himself to the hilt, circling his hips as he ground himself deep into her heat, while he firmly applied pressure to her throbbing clit. 

With that she shattered around him, crying out his name horsely; her inner muscles gripping his cock tightly, pulsating around him.

At the sound of his name falling from her lips with utter abandon, and the tight grip she had on him, he followed her over the edge, her name, a strangled whisper repeated over and over.

Aware that his weight on top of her could be making her rather uncomfortable, he made a move to untangle himself from her, but she stopped him; wrapping her arms more firmly around him, "Stay, not yet" she murmured with a slight lazy slur to her words, as if all of her muscles, even her tongue, had turned to jelly. 

With a small quirk of his lips, he settled on top of her once again, lazily pressing small kisses to her neck and shoulders. 

After a few long minutes feeling the reassurance of his weight pressing down onto her, she gave him a slight nudge. Slipping his softened member from her there was a twin gasp at the feeling of loss. Rolling off of her and settling down beside her, he gathered her up into his arms, and together they lay in the dark, bodies intertwined, heart rates climbing downwards from their euphoric highs, breaths still laboured, and sweat cooling on their skin. 

Breaking the silence of the room, Mycroft tightened his hold around Molly, her back held tightly against his chest, "Love, is not something that I thought that I held a high capacity for, loving someone else much less so. My very limited experience in love and loving has been, for the longest time restricted to very few, and all of owe instances were thrust upon me and never of my choosing. When you came into my life, caring and love is all that you have ever shown me, even if I didn't deserve it at times."

She made to interrupt, but he gave her a gentle squeeze, willing her to let him finish. 

Taking a deep breath to strengthen his resolve and once again focus on what he was trying to tell her, he continued "What we had wasn’t like anything I had ever experienced; it was so without suspicion or dubious motives, naturally I was suspicious and I didn’t think it was love."

With a sigh he gave a nervous tug to his ear, "I don't know how to love someone like you Molly Hooper, or how someone like you deserves to be loved. But I do know I do love you, that it was in fact love then, just as much as it is now. Don't let me go, because I know that if that is what you truly want, no matter how it breaks me I will let you go; for you. Let me love you, teach me how to love; how to love you." He finished sigh a soft, slow kiss to her up turned lips. 

While the pair whispered their absolutions to each other, intertwined in the loving arms of the other, across town a figure sat crouching in front of an open closet, the glow of candles illuminating his face. 

The walls covered in pictures, newspaper clippings, and journal articles of Molly Hooper. Little bundles of strands of her hair littered the floor; hair pins, electrics, and old trash that had once passed through her hands collected and made into a shrine dedicated to her. 

With a small doll clutched in his hand and a photo of Sherlock in the other, the man who sat crouching in front of the closet, slightly swaying back and forth whispered manically, "You wanted Sherlock, I was so sure of it. I changed everything to become him for you; my hair, my cloths, my eye colour, even my walk." 

Crumpling the photo of Sherlock and tossing it to the side he continued, "Now you want the other one, well I can be that too Molly Hooper. You will love me, I know you will, and we'll be happy together, forever." Tracing the smiling face of the tiny doll that he had fashioned in her likeness, he clutched it to his chest and laughed with a crazed glee.


	5. Chapter 5

Something had stirred her from the comfortable lull of sleep. Opening her eyes, the first thing that she noticed was that it was still dark outside and this was definitely not her bed. Blinking back the fog sleep from her eyes and bringing herself into a state of wakefulness, the memories of the hours past came rushing back to her, spreading a wide grin across her lips.

Turing her head slightly, sparkling brown met guarded blue/grey eyes. Knowing that it was just his insecurity that he always tried to hide behind a visage of guarded aloofness, Molly fully turned her body to face him and reached out to take one of his free hands in her, gently pressing a soft kiss to the palm of his hand.

“Hi” she whispered with a bright, shy smile on her lips. Using her eyes, she tried to convey all of the trust and love she felt for him; she opened herself bare for him to see, knowing that on an emotional level she would have to be the one to lead the way.

At the feel of her soft lips on his skin, he felt as if a weight had been physically lifted from him; that all of his fears and worries had been set free. He was the British Government; he was power; he was strength; he control, and yet the touch of this woman, his woman, his Molly, could make his world come crashing down around him; could shatter his calm demeanour; could reduce him to a thrumming mess of need and desire. 

Eyes burning with an intensity that took her breath away, he gently pushed her to lie flat on her back. Never taking his eyes off of her, he rose up above her. Sliding his hands down her arms he felt tiny bumps raise on her flesh; the slight tremble and twitch of her arms, while watched as her eyes dilated to large, dark swirling pools of desire and passion. Capturing her wrists in his larger hands, he brought them above her head and pinned them to the mattress. With a low, deep growl that vibrated through his frame and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, he captured her lips in a bruising kiss of fierce possessiveness that that left her breathless.

Her eyes fluttered open, a bit dazed and disoriented. His name slipped from her lips as a breathy sigh. Mycroft paused and stared at this beautiful, vibrant woman for a heartbeat in wonderment, not being able to fully comprehend her depths of love and compassion. His world was full of backstabbers and traitors; to have Molly give him freely love and trust always left him amazed.

Bending his head once more, he brought stubble roughed chin to nuzzle against her smooth, soft skin, making her squirm underneath him even more. Letting go of her hands, he trailed his fingers down her sides, stroking her sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. His hands settled at her hips; his touch setting her skin aflame, making her quiver.

His hands did not linger too long as they stroked and caressed her skin. His dexterous, graceful fingers kneading her soft breasts; the slightly roughened pads of his thumbs brushing over her taunt, aching peaks as her back arched up to fill his palms with her willing flesh. The power that his man had over her terrified and thrilled her.

Bending his head, he felt her shake, his name ripped from her lips in a strangled cry as he laved one stiff peak and then the other with board swipes of his tongue. His free hand questing and mapping her body and finding her wet heat as it slowly danced over her sensitive core. With every stroke of his fingers and lap of his tongue, she felt her desire climb higher and higher; her belly tightening in anticipation, her breaths coming short and laboured.

When he was satisfied that each luscious mound had been paid equal attention, he trailed fiery kisses down her body. Molly gave a quiet gasp, her body thrumming with anticipation. Gently he pushed at her legs and she let them fall to the sides of him, exposing her most intimate self for his eyes to devour.

Nuzzling his nose to her along the inside of her thighs, he inhaled the scent of her. Gently he kissed and nipped at her thighs, everywhere but where she most wanted him to be. Molly let out a frustrated moan as she felt him ghost over her only to back away again. At the sound of her frustrated huff a smug grin settled on him lips.

Deciding that he would rather feel her come apart from his lips, he settled his lips around her aching bud, licking and suckling gently. Hearing her breathing increase, he slid two fingers into her slick heat. As he pumped his fingers in and out of her, he raised his head to look up the length of her body. Her eyes were tightly shut, her hands fisted into the bed covers, her chest rising rapidly with every intake of breath, her skin shone with a fine sheen of sweat; she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Mycroft, please” came her small whimper. Only too happy to oblige, he redoubled his efforts, his tongue lapping, his lips kissing and manipulating her most sensitive flesh.

She withered on the bed; her back arching off of the mattress, fingers clenching convulsively, oblivious to the sounds of pleasure she was making.

At the feel of her inevitable fall into pleasure, Molly threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling insistently until he paused and looked up at her. Her eyes large and round, pleaded with him.  

Laying one last kiss to her most intimate, he climbed back up her body, dropping random kisses to her flesh. Shifting between her thighs, he teased her, stopping just short of entering her. At her frustrated growl he grinned down at her with a cheeky smile.

Surprising them both, and quite satisfying whipping that smug smile off of his face, she grasped him firmly in hand and raised her hips to meet him. At the feel of her, he completely surrendered to his baser instincts, and drove into her waiting body.

Both incapable to coherent thought, rode the tides of pleasure (ahaha pun!) until both were sated, and had submitted to sleep once again.

\------------------------------------

The next time she awoke, the dim morning light that singled that it was just past dawn, filtered into the room. Stretching her arms above her head, her hand lightly brushed against his should. Surprised that he was still in bed; Mycroft was notorious for sleeping very little- going to sleep well into the AM and waking before the dawn.

Turning over, she saw that he was still asleep. With a light blush that stained her cheeks, she recalled that he had still been awake when she had drifted back to sleep in the middle of the night after he had loved her so thoroughly.

Propping herself up on her elbow, she let her eyes drift over his sleeping form, the morning light illuminating his features. The creases in his brow from worry (be it from Sherlock or work she did not know) were smooth, his mouth relaxed and made his lips more full and not stretched thin and pinched from exasperation, and the usual dark circles that shadowed his eyes were no more. In this restful state, here in bed with her, he looked as much at peace as she had ever seen him.

Feeling the need to touch him (Molly always was a big sucker for cuddling), she shifted over towards him snuggling her body close to his; she dropped a light kiss to the middle of his chest, the soft downy hair tickling her face, before she rested her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh.

Usually a light sleeper, the movements of the bed and the brush of her lips made his eyes flutter open, only to be greeted by her serene expression, hair badly mused, and lips swollen from his kisses. Shifting her body so that she rested on top of him, he tightened his arms around her, holding her close.

Placing a kiss on her forehead, his sleep roughened voice greeted her, “Good morning darling, I trust you slept well”

Thinking back on her sleep and the not sleeping parts of her night, she gave him a beaming smile, snuggling deeper into his embrace, “Yes” came her breathy sigh into his chest. Molly was never one to be too chatty in the mornings, give her any other time in the day and words just poured out of her, whether she liked it or not.

A low, quiet chuckle vibrated through his body, and his arms flexed as they tightened around her; he was more than content to have her in his arms, soaking in the quiet morning.

All too soon though, the peace was broken by the shrill ring of his phone. Head swiveling to the phone and then back to her, he shot her an apologetic look; a small, almost sad smile tugging at his lips. Knowing how important his work was to him (and really to the whole British Empire), she flashed him a reassuring smile and playfully pecked him on the nose before rolling off of him and bounding to the bathroom. He was momentarily distracted by her retreating form before he reached over to answer his phone on the third ring.

Coming out of the bathroom wrapped in his plush bathrobe, freshly showered a short while later, she was greeted with the sight of him sitting at the end of his bed, fully dressed in one of his dashing 3 piece suits, just finishing tying his shoes.

Sliding her hands up the lapels of his jacket, her hands came to rest on his shoulders. Placing his hands on her hips, he drew her closer to him in between his legs. With a put upon sigh he rested his forehead against her cloth cover stomach.

“This is a very good look on you my dear, I shall have to endeavour to make sure it happens again” he said as he titled his head to look up at her with a grin tugging at his lips and a sparkle in his eyes.

“Oh you” she blushed, giving him a light swat to his shoulder.

Lingering a moment longer to take in the sight of her, he finally stood without detaching himself from her. “I’m afraid that duty calls my dear. I hate to leave you now, when things are still so unanswered and unfinished.” He told her, looking torn between wanting to stay with her and knowing that he was needed.

Looking down into her eyes intently, he bent his head down to kiss her one last time before he had to leave. Rising up on tip toes, she met him halfway, clinging tighter to him to keep her balance. The kiss was slow, soft, and gentle; it held an edge of promise. It was not frenzied or rushed, but spoke of the slow, simmering love that they had for each other; that was building between them.

Letting out a shuddering breath, he nipped at her ear and whispered hotly in her ear “Sometimes I really do hate my job, your touch feels like endless possibilities.”

“I really should go,” he said as his fingers brushed lightly against her cheek.

Leaning into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed, “I guess I really should get ready for work too” she sighed. With the realization of work, her eyes flew open; she had come home with him from the party and had nothing suitable for work.

As if reading her thoughts, he gave her a small smile, “You have a rather fetching outfit that I had brought here for you hanging in the wardrobe, and I will have a car waiting for you outside when you are ready”

Raising a curious brow, “Anthea?” she questioned.

With one last knowing smirk, he leaned in and gave her a soft kiss to the forehead and a quick squeeze to her intertwined hand and left the room with her looking after him.

With a sort of dazed expression in her eyes, she licked her lips, remembering the delicious taste of him and the way his lips felt pressed against hers. She would never get enough of this man. Even now the scent of him clung to her and tickled her nose; of sandalwood, spice, and something uniquely him.

Mycroft had come back to the room, but stopped short as he saw that she had drifted off into her own world. With a smug, self-confident smile spreading over his lips because he knew that she was thinking of him; knew that he was the one that was putting that smile on her face, he cleared his throat to get her attention.

Startled out of her musings, she gave a small squeak of surprise and spun around, hand to her chest, as if to catch her racing heart from bounding out.

“Good lord, do not do that! You with all of your Holmes-silent- sneakiness” she gasped out, still trying to regain her breath.

“I just wanted to say... I just wanted to ask you, if you’d permit me to take you to dinner tonight?” He asked with a slight nervous clenching and unclenching of the handle of his ever present umbrella.

“Like ... a date? Out in public; with other people around to see us? A real date?” she teased with a slight goofy grin spreading across her lips.

“Yes... something like that, if you’d like” he said with a slight blush staining his cheeks.

“Yes, I would definitely like that” she replied with a full, genuine smile.

“Good... good, alright then. Until tonight then my dear.” And with that he turned and fled the room.

With him gone she flopped backwards on his bed and looked up at the ceiling trying to put some semblance of order to her racing thoughts that were slightly overwhelming her. At the chime of the downstairs clock, she was once again reminded of the time and the dead bodies that were awaiting her attention at work. With a resigned sigh she pushed herself up and went to investigate what she would be wearing that day, Anthea always did have good taste.

\------------------------------------------------

Molly arrived at the hospital, balancing breakfast in one hand and her purse in the other, so it was of no wonder that she did not notice the figure standing across the street watching her.

At the sight of her, head down and rummaging around in her purse, the figure quickly strode across the street. Looking up in triumph at finding her key card for the staff entrance, she let out a gasp of surprise and proceeded to drop her tea and toast in fright.

“Hello there Molly” Tom greeted her with a manic look in his eyes.

Instinctively she took a step back, “Oh hello Tom.” At the sight of him guilt flooded her upon remembering that she had left him at the party the night previous.

Looking him up and down, something was different about him. Something about his hair was different; it wasn’t curly like before, but rather neat and cropped short. He was wearing a trim grey suit, and an umbrella hung from his wrist. There was something that was eerily familiar about him but she couldn’t put her finger on it.  

“Tom, I am so sorry about the other night. Please let me explain and I hope that one day you can forgive me” she said with a cringe. Even to her own ears, that sounded insincere and lame.

Looking at her intently, “I... I could never be mad at you my Molly”

“Have coffee with me Molly, please” he pleaded with her

“I’m sorry Tom but I really do need to be getting to work” she told him, trying to edge past him to go into the building.

“I... I just want to talk Molly” he said, stepping up to invade her personal space, and gripped her wrist firmly.

“Tom, you’re hurting me” she said, her voice tinged with a bit of panic and fear, while she tried to rip her hand from his grasp.

“I can’t stop thinking about you Molly; you’re all I ever think about. I gave you everything you wanted Molly; I became everyone you wanted, and the he comes along and only caused you pain and you chose him! I can’t let you go Molly, you are in my veins. I could love you better than him if only you’d let me”

With that he quickly brought his hand up and injected her in the side of the neck. The next thing she knew, her vision started to blur, her body weakened until she felt her knees give out and she ended up a pile on the floor. With large dark sports overtaking her vision and her mind becoming fuzzier, she spilled the contents of her purse over the pavement and ripped off a button from the cuff off of his coat, in hope that when they came to look for her, these clues would help.

“I knew that you would be back, and now we can be together forever” he said looking down at her softly. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her unconscious form to the waiting service van he had parked around the corner; no one would question why a maintenance van was parked by a hospital. Before placing her in the back of the van, he bent his head to inhale the scent of her. Smelling her hair, he sighed before getting into the van and driving off.

Laying her down on the bed, he gazed down at her, taking in the contours of her body and alluring curve of her lips. Starting to undress her, he first took off her sensible flats, dropping them to the floor as he trailed his fingers up the sides of her shapely legs to the top of her fitted black trousers and undid them. Rolling them down her legs, he felt his body react to the sight of her, becoming more excited with each inch of flesh he saw. Quickly disposing of her shirt, he hurriedly redressed her in a pair of his track pants and shirts so as not to tempt himself further, but also talking pleasure in seeing her surrounded by things that were him.

With one last lingering looking, he rose and clicked shut the silver handcuffs around her wrists and the bed frame. Lightly tracing her wrists with his fingers where the cuffs met flesh he whispered to her tenderly, “You’ll see my Molly, you might not know it now, but we belong together. I’ll show you; I won’t let anything or anyone come between us.”

Brushing back her hair one last time, he dropped a soft kiss to her forehead and left the room, shutting the door; the silence of the room only broken by the lock clicking into place.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing that she noticed was that the room was way too bright, even with her eyes closed; the pinpricks of light that made it past her eyelids burned and made her eyes water, and intensified the pounding in her head.

With a groan she tried to turn over to bury her face into the pillows but immediately noticed the cold metal that surrounded her wrists. Her eyes grew large and her breath started to come in short little gasps as panic started to overcome her. This was not her room or Mycroft’s for that matter, and she saw that her clothes were neatly folded on a chair next to her bed and she didn’t recognize the shirt that she was wearing.

The room that she was in, she observed was sparsely furnished; the walls were a pale blue, there was a simple night stand painted white, a chest of drawers in the corner, a queen sized bed dominating the middle of the room, and an overstuffed chair pulled up beside the bed, as if someone where keeping vigil over her while she was unconscious.

With growing dread, the memories of the past few hours came rushing back to her. Scared and frightened, she frantically started to tug and pull at her bindings, red welts starting to form where the hard, cold metal met her soft, pale flesh.

At the sound of her struggling, the bedroom door opened. Closing the door quietly behind him, Tom stepped into the room with a beaming smile on his face. “Oh good, you’re finally awake my Molly, I was getting a bit worried that supper would go cold” he told her in a cheerful voice, as if the predicament that she was in was something that happened every day.

Blinking up at him, she was momentarily stunned into silence at his total disregard for drugging and kidnapping her. Taking her silence as a good sign, he came to perch on the side of the bed beside her. As she felt the mattress dip, she was shaken out of her stupor and started to thrash about and scream every obscenity at him that she knew; pulling on her cuffed hands and kicking out her legs in an attempt to either somehow break free (which she realized was not going to happen) or to kick the deranged bastard (something that was more feasible).

At the sound of his sharp intake of breath, Molly was gratified to see pain flash across his face. Momentarily a dark anger clouded his eyes, his breathing turned rapid and haggard; he raised his hand in a motion that meant that he was going to strike her across the face. At the sight of him, Molly closed her eyes tightly and waited for the pain to explode across her cheek, but it never came. Prying one eye open, she stole a glance at him. His chest was heaving and there was a wild look in his eye; his hand was not clenched tightly into a fist and he was slowly lowering it, as if it took great strength and will power to do so.

Through gritted teeth he bit out, “I’m going to forgive you for kicking me Molly, after all when you love someone you forgive them, and I’m just going to chalk this all up to being overwhelmed in seeing me again and that you are just lashing out because you are distraught due to our time apart.”

He went to stroke her hair but she wretched her head away from his hand. “Where the hell am I and what do you want?” she hissed at him, anger flashing in her eyes.

At first glance, many thought that she was just plain and mousey, but not him, he knew that she was a feisty; that she was strong and had a fire about her that attracted him like a moth to a flame. He had watched her for a long time before approaching her; learning everything that there was to know about her, after all he would have to know everything about her to be able to make her happy.

“We’re home; this is our home Molly, I did this all for you, for us. I did this all so that we could build a life together and be happy. I sacrificed so much for us, so we can be here together; a good job, friends.”

With a look of increasing horror, tears of fear starting to form in her eyes, she shook her head not really comprehending how she had not picked up on this behaviour from him while they were dating. “Tom, I’m sorry but I just don’t love you that way, please stop this” she pleaded with him.

Shaking his head he replied, “I can’t do that Molly, I love you too much; I’d rather die than let you go again.”

“Tom you are insane. They will know that I am missing and will come for me; John, Sherlock, Greg, Mycro...”

At the mention of their names, something snapped inside of him and his hand made sharp contact with her face before she knew it was coming. The stinging on her cheek brought a quick shine to her eyes; however she would not let him see her cry.

Raising a hand he went to stroke her cheek that was now blossoming with an angry red colour. As he reached out and cupped her face, he was momentarily confused when she flinched; surely she knew that he didn’t mean to hurt her, that he really did have no intention of hurting her. He gently laid his hand against her still red cheek. "I’m sorry…" Panic filled her eyes and he was immediately sorry that he had hit her. 

“Oh Molly, my sweet Molly, look what you made me do. I love you so much that it hurts, and when I hear you say his name, I am just blinded by my jealousy and love for you that I can’t help myself.”

“I think that we both just need some time to calm down and become more reasonable, so we can avoid future incidents of saying and doing things that we both know we will regret. You just need some time my Molly and you’ll see, we belong together. I will bring you supper in a few hours”

With that he got up off of the bed and went to the door; turning , he let his eyes wander over her before he turned and left the room.

At the sound of the locks engaging on the door, she finally let the tears fall, let them fill and blur her vision. She was in a bad situation; scratch that, a horrible situation. She didn’t know how she was going to get home again. She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer for help; a prayer that Mycroft will soon come to her rescue.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... I don't even know any more lol

Why could things never be easy; why could he never have just a quiet, unassuming day at the office where the biggest challenge would be choosing what he was going to have for lunch, oh yeah that’s right, because if it was that easy he would be bored out of his mind and most likely shooting up walls of his flat just like his brother.

With a sigh he rubbed his tired eyes; having reread the words on the page more than once because they had a habit of blurring together... and it was only 5pm! From the moment he got to the office there had been one crisis after another that just demanded his attention; death toll rising in the Middle East, North Korea launching test missals, anarchist and terrorist threats, snivelling politicians vying for his attention, you name it. He was buried under paper work and pulled into meetings and teleconferences, you would think being the British Government and all would afford him minions to do his bidding, but alas it was his own fault really, for making himself as indispensible as he was.

He knew that he was to see her again tonight, to go out on a proper date like she deserved, but that thought still did not quell his desire to see her again. He had been itching all day to tap into the CCTV feed to see her again, but he knew that one peek would lead to another, and another, until he either left the office to go and see her or he spent the whole day mooning over her like some lovesick teenager. So he used all of his famed self control and resisted the urge, however that doesn’t mean that he was not constantly glancing at the clock willing hands of the clock to move faster.

Glancing at the clock, he noticed that it was nearing 7 o’clock, he was to meet Molly at Bart’s after her shift at 8 o’clock, so with that he closed the last of the files on his desk, sorting them into what could wait for tomorrow, and what needed to be taken home to be finished later tonight.

As he was closing his briefcase, his ever present observational skills picked up the sounds of his exasperated PA and his brother arguing outside of his office. Knowing that his brother had a flair for the dramatics, he braced himself for Sherlock’s entrance.

The door flew open, crashing against the wall with a loud thud that reverberated around the room, and swung back with its momentum, only to be stopped by the shoulder and yelp of surprise of dear Dr. Watson who had the unfortunately luck to be trailing behind his dear brother.

“What have you done with her?!” came the booming voice of his younger brother as he stormed into the room.

“Hello to you too Sherlock” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Dr. Watson” he gives John a slight nod of his head in acknowledgement. 

“I’m not sure I understand who this, _her_ is supposed to be brother mine; unlike you I actually work for a living and am quite busy.”

“Oh don’t play dumb with me Mycroft, it is very unbecoming. You’ve hidden her somewhere I’m sure of it, punishing me for breaking into your flat last week and hiding all of your umbrellas no doubt.” Sherlock says with a slightly petulant tone.

With a roll of his eyes at his brother’s childish pranks, he replied with exasperation tingeing his voice, “I really do not have the faintest idea of what you are talking about, I have been here busy all day Sherlock, and so if you would kindly tell me what you are blathering on about.”

Throwing his hands up in the air in a sign of frustration, Sherlock rolls his eyes and bites out, “My pathologist of course, who else! I’ve been waiting around Bart’s all day for her, the game is on Mycroft, and this little game is slowing down my case!” 

As the word pathologist was uttered from Sherlock, his thoughts flew at an alarming rate; a range of emotions running past his minds eyes. He was the Ice Man that was for sure, but it was not by design but rather by choice. If he let sentiment and emotion rule logic and calculation, combined with his intellect and prows of manipulation he would most likely be a megalomaniac, and wouldn’t that be utterly exhausting.  

His mind and body felt at war with one another; he felt both an icy chill run through his body, but at the same time a steadily building raging inferno that stole his breath. Mycroft felt his blood run cold; like icy fingers gripping his heart. For a moment his breath caught in his throat and he could not breath for the panic that he felt over taking his mind and body.

With the thought that someone dare (even unwittingly) encroach on what he considered his, made his rage and anger bubble up; thoughts of pain and torture flicking through his mind. His ire was steadily rising, threatening to consume him.

He was flooded with emotions, something that he was not quite use to, and it threatened it to drown him in despair and hopelessness; he needed something to ground him or he’d crumble. He needed something that he knew, something that he could control and use; anger he knew, rage he could use, revenge was real. Forcing his mind and emotions to still; becoming overcome with emotion would not get her back; his eyes met that of his brothers. Mycroft narrowed his eyes, and hissed out in a deadly quiet tone, “Say that again”

“Molly Hooper, my pathologist” Sherlock repeated to distracted by the swirling emotions that he saw flashing in his brother’s eyes to comment on his redundant need for repetition.

At hearing her name fall from his lips, it solidified the ball of fear and fury that rolled in his stomach; a growl that likened itself to that of a caged tiger came from the back of his throat. Slamming his hand down onto his desk that belayed his state of mind, he jabbed at the intercom button, barking out a terse “Anthea” to summon her to his office.  

Opening his office door and spying her boss, she could see his agitation and urgency in the tightness of his shoulders and the severe set of his mouth. Before she even had a chance to step into the room, he was issuing her orders in a tone of voice that left even the most fanatical terrorist taking the day off.

“I want a detailed account of what happened this morning when Robert dropped Ms. Hooper off at work, and the CCTV camera feeds from Bart’s and a 5km surround radius”

Anthea gave him a slight tight nod after waiting a split second to see if he required anything else, and then promptly turned on her heel and left the room.

Leveling his gaze with Sherlock he bit out, “Sherlock, you have a new case now”

“Is that so brother dear” Sherlock replied petulantly crossing his arms in a show of defiance, torn by his concern for Molly and his need to be defiant and contrary in the face of Mycroft trying to order him to do something.

Striding around his desk in 3 purposeful strides, Mycroft came toe to toe with his brother, hands clenched at his side, his body positively vibrating with danger, “It is so brother mine”  

Searching his eyes, Sherlock’s eyebrows furled in confusion; he did ever so like to push his brother’s buttons, but no matter what he’s done thus far the most he has ever gotten from him was exasperation, mild to high irritation, or varying degrees of annoyance. This, this was new, this was bordering on scary, even to him; this white hot fury that was positively radiating from his brother made him almost shudder for the poor who will be on its receiving end, but only just for they have taken his pathologist too.  

They were both slightly startled out of their silent battles of wills by a throat clearing behind them.

“This is not the time or place for your childish squabbles, someone out there has Molly and we can’t afford to waste any time fighting, so just stop it! Sherlock we’ll go to Bart’s and have a look around and Mycroft... you do... what you do” John interrupted them with exasperation clearly evident in his voice.

With that he turned on his heel and exited the room. Throwing his brother one last look that promised this wasn’t over, he followed John out of the room.

The room empty again, he sank into a chair allowing for just a moment in the privacy of his solitude to let the cracks in his icy exterior show. Putting his head in his hands he couldn’t help but despair, even just for a moment; this was the one thing he feared and it had come true. He should have known that his happiness couldn’t last; people like him don’t do happiness. He could keep the world safe from world war 3, could thwart any dubious plan against Queen and country, but the one woman he loved, he let her safety slip through his fingers.

“I’ll come and get you Molly, I promise”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... I know this part really isn't worth reading, it really is not good. I have an ending in mind, it was the build up to it that has and still escapes me.  
>  So sorry for this.

Chapter 8

First

The first time he watched the video feed, he starts violently, his mind only adding to the torment by adding in what she might have felt and the sounds as she crumpled to a heap, her head thudding as it bounced off the pavement. He is up on his feet like a shot, his chair having been pushed back abruptly, having toppled over; his breath is ragged and panting as adrenaline floods his body, his eyes wide and wild; his fists clenched tightly on either side of the laptop, knuckles white. His face is drained of colour; the faint freckles on his skin standing out and becoming more prominent and the bile rises in his throat, almost choking him. The first time he watches the video, he does not notice anything but the terror and fright that is written across her face, and he feels helpless and so very scared.

Second

The second time he watched the video feed, he is perched on the very end of his chair; he knows what is going to happen so he doesn’t react so violently, but his fists still clench at his sides, and he needs to bite down on his bottom lip, the iron tang of his blood the only thing keeping him centred.

The second time he watches the video, he needs to force his eyes away from Molly, as much as he loves her, watching her will only be a distraction and will not get her back sooner. Instead his keen eyes focus on the man and how he reverently slides his hand down her arm and then suddenly grips her wrist tightly; he just knows that it will form a handprint shape bruise on her pale, delicate skin, and this thought makes his mouth clench tight, his lips turning white around the edges from the force. The slide of his hand tells him that there is some affection, but the rapidly changing grip speaks of obsession.

He notices that the man is left-handed from the way he pulls out the syringe and depresses it into her neck; the sight this man harming her makes his eyes narrow and his hands just twitch to snap his neck.

He noticed his the wild and erratic movements of the man; his hand jerky and flailing as he spoke, the sudden highs and crashing lows of his movements and posture, this man was unstable at best and that made him even more worried for this presented an element of unknown and unpredictability.

With a small, sad smile, Mycroft noted that he did not carry a weapon or he would have had used it to speed up the kidnapping or at least kept her quiet, he noted as he watched her, tracing a finger around her image reverently as he watched her argue with her assailant.

Taking slow deep breaths, Mycroft steels himself to watch the video one more time, this time taking in the man’s face to not only tell his identity but to look into his eyes and see the intention written in his eyes.

Third

The third time he saw the video feed his deduction was confirmed, it was Tom who had taken who. For all that he thought that the man was just another idiot, this idiot now had his Molly. It was ironic, he thought morbidly; he had essentially stole her from this man and now wasn’t karma just a bitch.

Mycroft watched as his eyes told a story as emotions rapidly flashed and changed his eyes. He noticed that when he first approached Molly there was a shining light in his eyes, an almost joyful glee, like he was exciting to tell or show her something like a small child. However when Molly replied to what he was saying, his eyes clouded over instantly with a blinding rage that promised her compliance whatever the cost.

Hunching in on himself Mycroft rested his chin on his steeple fingers, a position that mirrored that of Sherlock, he closed his eyes and put all of his deductions together, and with surprising speed and clarity, he knew exactly where taken her.

Snatching up his suit jacket he was striding out of his office door before he even had it on, barking multiple commands at Anthea as he headed to his ever waiting car, not even pausing to wait for her.

\----------------------------------

Meanwhile at Bart’s...

Sherlock is crouched over the sidewalk right outside the staff entrance of the hospital, mini magnify glass out inspecting a dark smudge of mud. John was standing behind him looking around to see if he could see anything out of the ordinary, but already knowing that his skills at deduction were nowhere near that of Sherlock’s, so really he was just trying to stay out of the way.

“Did you know?” John asked him.

“Know what?” Sherlock answered absently, not quite paying attention to him.

“About your brother and Molly”

“What!? What are you talking about?”

“You know your brother and Molly, as in a relationship”

“No ... no, no, no, no. They are not in a relationship, he’s just concerned about her because he feels that he owes her for helping to protect me, he never could stay out of my business.”

John just looks at him skeptically, still unbelieving that a man like Sherlock with all of his brilliance is so ignorant and stupid when it comes to relationships and emotions.

Finally Sherlock turns his head to John after a moment of silence from his companion and saw the unbelieving, skeptical look on his face, “What?!” he exclaimed.

“Nothing... nothing” John said shaking his head at him.

Mollified, Sherlock turned back to his work.

“Aha! Got it” Sherlock said, taking a pair of tweezers out of his pocket and plucking something obscure out of the mud that John tried to crane his neck to see, but then in a blink of an eye Sherlock was up on his feet, his Belstaff coat swirling behind him, his mobile whipped out already in the process of dialing Mycroft’s number.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there guys!

Blinking her eyes, Molly let the grogginess clear from her eyes; she must have fallen asleep. At first she was a bit disoriented and couldn’t figure out where she was, but the rattle of metal on metal and the arch in her arms had the memories of the past few hours come crashing back to her.

She heard footsteps outside of her door, and not wanting to be caught out in a vulnerable position, she hauled herself up as best as she could into a sitting position; spine straight and head titled up. Briefly she paused to wonder what time or even day it was, but then shook her head a bit to refocus, that did not really matter so long as she was still help captive.

Opening the door, Tom peeked his head in, a bright smile on his face, “Oh good you’re up” he said in a cheerful voice as if he was speaking to a lover and not a prisoner.

“I’ve brought you something to eat” he said indicating the tray he held.

Molly was about to protest that she did not want nor need anything from him, when the sound of her stomach betrayed her. Instead she intoned with in a deadpan voice, yanking lightly on her bound hands and a false, sickly sweet smile on her lips, “I appreciate that I really do, but I think it would be rather hard to do that with my hands bound”

His browns frowned and you could practically see the internal argument play out across his face. Seeing that she was not about the leap off the mattress and attack him he nodded his head.

“I’m glad that you’ve come around Molly; it was killing me to see you like that it really was. I’m not trying to hurt you Molly; I’m just trying to make you happy”

Coming into the room, he set the tray down on her night table, and then kneeled on the bed to unlock the hand cuffs. As soon as the tension created by her straining arms was loosened, she unconsciously let out a sigh as she rolled her shoulders to ease the cramps.

She gave him a small nod of thanks, it wouldn’t do to make him upset again. Reaching out she took the tray into her lap and tentatively began to eat, wondering for a brief moment if he would have tampered with it somehow, but was beyond caring because if he wanted to kill her he would have done it already.

At the sight of her eating what he had prepared for her, a delighted smile lit his face and he settled himself into the arm chair beside her bed to watch her.

Staring at her unblinkingly he told her in a dreamy voice, “I made it for you, all your favourites love.”

Her eyes slid over to him, “Thank you... I... I appreciate it” she said softly. She decided that she would play timid; like she enjoyed their conversations and appreciated him for all that he was doing, that way it could possibly lend more time for her rescue.

This was Tom, unassuming, boring Tom. The last thing that she ever thought that she would be was scared of him, and right now she was desperately trying to push down her fear and let her anger centre her, make her less afraid.

This Tom was not the Tom that she remembered or noticed, and she wonders how in gods’ name she didn’t notice. This Tom seemed to be in a state of delusion; he believed himself to be utterly in love with her and that she was the deluded one that hadn’t realized her feelings just yet.

Right now a few well placed shy smiles was enough to keep up that delusion, but what made her chest tighten in fear was the thought that what if she slipped up and wasn’t able to keep up with the ruse.

Placing the tray on the side table she let her eyes travel around the room and the silence that settled over them with stifling and tense. Her eyes strayed to the one window in the room, and she wondered not for the first time where she was and if there was anything outside that window that would help her.

“I know!” he said jumping up, “I think we should watch a movie, just like we use to. Does that sound good to you; I have all of your favourites.”

“Um... yeah sure that sounds fine” she agreed, anything that would take her out of this room and get a better look at where she was.

“Great!” he said as he stood up and approached her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a dark strip of cloth.

With slight panic rising in her voice “What is that; what are you doing?!” she said and she scooted further up the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“Don’t worry Molly; I just need to cover your eyes. The house isn’t finished yet and I don’t want to ruin the surprise. Remember that doll house your father built you when you were a little girl, well I can’t seem to find the same colour of paint for the kitchen” he replied as if knowing intimate details about her childhood was something that they had shared.

Alarmed that he knew about that doll house when she had never told anyone about it before, her body went cold and numb, and the next thing she knew her vision was darkened.

“There” he said as he tied it around her eyes, his hand taking a moment to trail down her face gently, stroking it reverently. At the feel of his hands on her face, her body shuddered at his slimy touch.

Helping to her feet, he placed his hands around her waist and guided her out of the room to the basement. As they made their way through the house, his hand slipped further down her waist to rest on her bottom. Gritting her teeth, she resisted the overwhelming urge to punch him square in the face, but instead she clenched her jaw and gave no outward sign that she noticed.

He settled her onto the sofa and took the seat next to her, draping his arm around her sounders and pressing his side into her. “I know just the thing to cheer you up Molly dearest” and with that be began the movie.

As the movie began, Molly was surprised to see one of her favourite movies that she always watches on those relaxing rainy days. “How...” she whispered, know that this was one of her guilty pleasures and that she had never shared with him.

Having heard her, he turned and smiled at her, “I’ve watched you for a long time Molly, I know just about everything about you; I needed to learn all about your likes and dislikes so that I keep you happy”

With a feeling of dread, she tried to inch her body away from his, but that only served to have him tighten his arms around her.

Try and she might, she tried her hardest to ignore him beside her; the feel of the heart of his body seeping into her where they touched or the way he was absentmindedly threading his fingers through her hair. However, his strokes became bolder and he started to caress her cheek with the back of his hand, and would stroke the column of her neck, as his hot breath puffed against it.

At the feel of his breath against her neck, a cold sweat broke out across her skin, her pulse became rapid, and her breath became trapped in her throat. Not noticing, or not caring, her continued to stroke her soft skin; his fingers tracing a path up and down. Pushing her hair behind her ear, he breathed into her ear “Do you like that?”

At his words, she gave an involuntary shudder, his nearness eliciting a physical response of disgust. Clenching her eyes tightly shut, all she could do was shake her head. Using his other hand, he titled her face towards his.

“It’s just like old times Molly. I’ve been so very patient my Molly. For years I watched you dance around that Sherlock, offering yourself to him. It was completely torture, but I knew he didn’t love you so I waited. When he finally jumped off that building I knew that it was finally my chance. Oh Molly, you don’t know how many nights I dreamed about you; how I watched you from afar; how I would stand over you and watched as you slept, as you dreamed, hoping that you were dreaming of me. I was oh so patient Molly, and now you are here with me and you don’t know how happy this makes me” he finished running his thumb across her trembling lips.

Wrenching herself away from his grasp, the anger that she had simmering just below the surface exploded, “You’re insane! Sick! Perverted!”

She could help but look on in fascination as she saw his eyes change; it was like watching a sand storm rip across the desert the way that the anger in his eyes came upon so suddenly and violently.

“You think I’m sick do you.” He raged at her, gripping her chin tightly in his hand and swinging her face around to his.

“I-I’m s-sorry” she gasped, all of the anger that had pushed replaced with an icy fear from the wild look in his eyes.

“No. You’re not. You said it, you meant it. You’re just like the rest of them aren’t you! Think that I should be locked away; that there is something wrong with me. Well you’re wrong! I just love you so fiercely. I changed myself to fit you Molly, for you! And this is the thanks I get.”  

Throughout his triad his voice climbed ever higher, his face darkening, and his eyes taking on a faraway look, as if seeing things that were beyond the room. He spring to his feet, his eyes focusing on her once again, he snarled “You’re just ungrateful, just like the rest of them!”

Shaking her head, her eyes wide in fright, “No... no.. I’m sorry. Please that is not what I meant” she pleaded, a slight quiver in her voice.  

“No! Stop it, just shut up! Stop lying to me” he shouted at her.

The next thing she knows is the pain exploding across her jaw; her vision crowded out by huge back sports that consumed it. Suddenly her world was tilting and she was swallowed by the darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for this lol

As the elevator doors opened, he spied his driver ready and waiting, holding his door open for him. Approaching the car, a thunderous look in his eyes that promised a swift and painful end, Mycroft waved him away, and the driver scrambled to the other side of the car to get in, as he practically jumped into the waiting car and pulled the door shut with a loud thud. 

With a lurch the car took off.

He closed his eyes, his hands clenched tightly into fists at his side as he let the memories wash over him. She had often spoke fondly of the little white cottage on the cliff that overlooked the sea; with the smells of the salty ocean in the air and the sounds of the gulls combined with the crash of the waves into the side of the cliff completing the seaside orchestra. Her family had rented that cottage every summer for a month, up until the year her father had passed away. She had said hat that place held her most fond memories growing up and that she would love to go back there someday.  
  
From the look in his eyes from the CCTV video, he was certain that was where he had taken her. His body language and the look in his eyes suggested that he was overly infatuated with Molly, to the point that he would do anything and everything to keep her and make her his.  
  
With a quick text to Anthea, he was able to confirm that he had rented out the small cottage of her childhood the week prior.  
  
Balling up his fist, he let it connect hard with the seat in front of him, finally letting his guard down in the isolation of the back seat of the vehicle. How could he have been so blind and let his guard down so easily, he thought to himself. He had let himself be swept away by his feelings for Molly that he neglected to stay vigilant to the dangers that surround them.  
  
Up clenching his hands, he breathed deeply, trying to get his breathing and mind back under control, it would not do to let his emotions rule him and make him act rashly when there was so much to lose. If he lost her, he would not know what to do, he had long come to terms with the notion that he had somewhere along the lines given her his heart and soul, and to lose her, his existence would be meaningless.  
  
The ringing of his phone brought him out of his destructive thoughts.  
  
"What do you have?" He barked into the phone, knowing very few people had this number, one of which he had just spoken to, the other kidnapped by a psychopath, and the last being his brother, so it had to be the latter.  
  
"He's taken her..."  
  
"To Dover"  
  
"To a cabin that..."  
  
"Overlooks the ocean on the cliffs. Brother mine tell me something that I don't know if you please" Mycroft said, his words coloured by his growing tension.  
  
"You are on your way there now aren't you, and Anthea is not there with you. Don't do anything stupid Mycroft, it would greatly upset Mummy if you want and got either of you killed, you know how desperate she is for grandchild"  
  
"Goodbye Sherlock. We'll see you when you get there," came his exasperated reply.  
  
Shaking his head, he thought of his little brother; a right pain in the arse most of the time, and the rest of it a snide little shit, however if you spoke Sherlock you'd know he cares in his own way. Case in point, don't do anything stupid meant be careful, and sure Mummy would be upset if he went and got himself killed but Sherlock really meant himself in his case.  
  
\-------------------------------------------  
The dull, throbbing ache that radiated from her head, slowly brought Molly back to awareness. Eyes closed she catalogued her injuries and tried to assess their seriousness; and with a small internal sigh she was relieved to note that it was most likely a minor concussion.

Molly let out a sudden hiss as she felt the sting of something cold touch her cheek. Slowly she opened her eyes and lifted her head, but immediately closed them again when the harsh light sent a stabbing pain into her already throbbing head. Squeezing her eyes shut, a groan escaped her lips; with a rapidly swelling and bruising face, the movement was only rewarded with more pain.

She resisted the urge to sigh and forced her eyes open, this time being more careful. After a few moments, her eyes had adjusted to the light, and she was met with the concerned face of Tom who was in the process of wringing out a wet cloth to put on her forehead.

She was sprawled out on the couch in the basement with a blanket tucked around her. Tom was kneeling by her side, his brows frowned in concentrated concern, until his gaze met hers, and then his eyes lit up in delight.

“Good morning sleepy head, you are me worried for a while there” he told her in a tone that was soft and gentle, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips.

Molly tried to sit up, but with her head swimming and her vision spinning, she just managed to push herself into the corner of the sofa. Taking a deep breath through clenched teeth to try and get her rolling stomach under control; she sat up, the arm of the sofa supporting her back.

“Just leave me alone” she said with a slight quiver in her voice and the shine of tears in her eyes.

He reached out a hand towards her, the damn cloth poised in his hand to place onto her forehead, but she jerked back away from him despite the dizziness that made her vision swim. “Molly, please. This will make you feel better” he said softly to her.

At his words, all of her fear left her and was replaced by a white hot rage. Batting his hand away, she growled at him, “No! You need to just leave me alone”

He fell back on to his heels, tilted his head and frowned his brows regarding her, “You’re upset” he said almost as a question.

Searching his eyes to see if he was kidding or if he indeed could not fathom why should would be upset, she could do nothing but shake her head, her mouth slightly slack in disbelief; he really, genuinely was surprised by her anger. Suddenly she felt laughter bubbling up in her chest. The hysterical, maniacal sound reverberated through the room sounding hollow and crazed.

There was nothing funny about the situation but she could not help her laughter, the stress becoming too much; she was drugged, kidnapped, locked up, and finally beaten by this man, and he couldn’t figure out why she was mad, this just had to be some terrible, ridiculous dream.   

“Um... Molly ... Are you alright?” he asked her, a deep concern etched into his face and posture.

“You have got to be kidding me. Of course I am not okay, and it is all because of you. How can you not know that. I want to go home, and I want you to just go away. I don’t love you and I never will, what don’t you understand” she yelled at him, her voice steadily getting higher and higher.

Tom stumbled back as if she had physically slapped him, her words shocking him to his core. He took a tentative step towards her, his hand outstretched. At his movement she filched backwards and clenched her eyes shut, expecting pain. When nothing was forthcoming, she cracked her eyes open, and she was surprised when she didn’t see anger in his eyes, but rather sadness.

“But Molly... I... I love you” he said almost brokenly.

Turning away from her, he walked up the stairs and locked the basement door behind him, leaving her to herself.

Walking outside, he paced the length of the porch, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He didn’t know what to do; he loved her but he knew that she could never be happy with him, much less love him back. He didn’t want to go to prison, so letting her go was out of the question, and he couldn’t keep her; she would just be a reminder of what an utter failure at love he was. That did not leave him with very many options.

Angrily he kicked out at the swing bench, and it rattled, suspended in its chains. It wasn’t fair! He treated her like a princess, gave her everything that she ever wanted and still she didn’t choose him. He left her and broke her heart and still she loved him more. Why couldn’t she just be happy with him?

Hanging his head, he let his tears call unbridled. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but he had no choice, he had to kill her.  

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The silence in the car was deafening, and surely the only sound that could be heard was the quick, wild beating of his heart; he had not felt this out of control since the last time Sherlock had overdosed and he was not sure he would make it through the night.

She was so close and yet so far away; it didn’t matter how close she was when it felt like every moment seemed to last forever and his traitorous mind could only conjure one scenario after another, each more gruesome than the last.  

Suddenly his phone buzzed, breaking the stillness of the car. Looking down at his phone he read the message.

She is going to be okay –A

Anthea, even when she was not with him, she knew exactly what he needed and when.

Right, she will be alright; she is alright, and they were both going to walk away from this and he he’d be damned if he was ever going to let her go again. Shaking his head, he brought himself back to the present as he felt the car climb the steep hill and make a sharp turn down the gravel path; the sound of the crunching rocks under the tires reinforcing the nearness to his Molly.

\------------------------------------------------

Standing on the porch looking out across the night blacked ocean, his hands gripping the rail, his train of thought was broken as he saw a pair of headlights swing up the path, and the sound of the crunching gravel indicating its approach.

Cursing under his breath, he spun around, his leg taking him back into the house, and with a crash the door closed behind him.

\------------------------------------------------

Jumping out of the car before it came to a stop, Mycroft saw the silhouette of a man charging back into the house, and he uttered a single word before he took off like a shot, “Fuck.” 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry ... bad case of writers block and no motivation for this story.  
> But getting back on track, thanks for baring with me. :)

His breath heaving, he ran as fast as he could; his lungs burning and coming in gasping pants. His legs carry him as fast as they can, but the only thought in his mind is that it is not fast enough. His mind, usually teaming with hundreds of thoughts at once, zeroed in and could only focus on one thought alone, Molly.

As he ran he could feel the gun strapped to his side, its weight and thud against his body as he moved; how he longed to wrap his hands around its cold metal handle and let off round after round into the chest of the person who dared touch what was his. To see their eyes turn cold as life slowly seeped out of them.

Mycroft could not remember a time when he had wanted someone to die then he did at this very moment. Gritting his teeth he ran faster.

\---------------------------------------------

Head downcast and hands pulling frantically at his hair, Tom re-entered the house, his breathing harsh and ragged; his movements sharp and wild. His eyes strayed to the locked basement door, and lingered a moment in indecision.

The crunch of gravel underfoot outside snapped him out of his revere. His gaze hardening, he strode quickly into the adjacent room; the lines of his mouth grim and a nervous quiver to his hand. Without Molly, there was nothing left for him. He would not go to jail, he couldn’t bare it, there was only one other way for them to be together, but first he needed to show her how wrong she was to put her love in that Holmes brother.

Pulling out drawer after drawer, the contents spilled onto the floors, the flash of silver and clatter of metal upon wood caught his attention. For a moment he just watched as the light reflected off the cool grey metal; calling to him; offering him a way out.

Snapping out of his revere, he picks up the gun and stuffs it into the back waist band of his pants; his face grey and ashen, and his hands trembling slightly. With his face set in a mask of grim determination, he takes a few quick strides to the locked basement door.

Pausing, he stops a moment to stretch his hearing out beyond the walls of the house to try and hear the approaching footsteps. All is silent and he curses silently under his breath, knowing that the only reason for the muted night was because the Holmes fellow must be near and was taking extra precaution in his movements.

With a frustrated growl just at the fleeting thought of the Holmes man, he violently wrenches the door open; the force at which it was ripped open and slams against the wall, making it vibrate with a loud crash.

He descends the stairs rapidly; his bounding movement from step to step making the staircase groan and shudder under the force of his feet. He glances around the room, his eyes falling on her curled up form on the couch; her knees bend with her arms around them, securing them to her body in a tight ball, and her chin tucked closely to her chest.

“Molly” he calls softly.

She stirs and turns her head towards him; her eyes red rimmed and bloodshot, her face expressionless.  

“I want to show you something... outside” he told her; his hands trembling and his eyes bright with ushered tears. _It’s the only way to be together_ the voice in his head kept repeating.

She turned away from him once again, listless; emotionally and physically spent.

At her blatant disregard and dismissal, a fire lights in his eyes and he is no longer trembling from nervousness, but not a seething rage. In measured steps he is by her side; reaching out a hand swiftly, he grabs a fistful of her hair, wrenching her head back.

She gave a startled cry, her hands flying up to his where he held her hair tightly.

“I said I wanted to show you something” he snarled again, spittle flying from his mouth unchecked. He drags her to her feet, up the stairs and out the backdoor; pained gasps and cries falling from her lips as she struggles to keep her footing.

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As he approaches the door to the dilapidated old house, he slows his movements; cautious to silent his feet as he creped his way across the wooden porch. Drawing his gun from his sling holster, he holds it steady as he stretches out his sense.

He hears their struggle up their stairs, presumably from the basement, his heart in his throat as he hears her cry out in pain. Gritting his teeth, he sneaks a look through the from window and watches as they disappear out the backdoor, however not without catching a glimpse of his Molly bruised and battered.

There is a large dark purple bruise on the side of her face in the distinct shape of a hand print; her eye is almost swollen shut, and her lip is bloody and split. His eyes narrow to slits and his teeth clench together harshly, grinding back and forth as if trying to control his anger.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

His grip switches from her hair to the top of her arm, holding it tightly in a bruising grip. He hauls her to his side roughly, his free hand going to the pistol in the waistband of his pants. He raises the gun and waves it distractedly in front of them trying to collect his thoughts; his breathing harsh and laboured.

As she saw the moonlight glint off the barrel of the her eyes go wide and her hand comes up to her mouth the stifle the fearful sob that escapes her lips, tears unchecked and coursing down her cheeks.

He looks at her suddenly, his eyes wild and panicked “I love you Molly. This is the only way” he told her.

“Together forever” he continued to mumble shaking his head, as he pulled her against his chest and wrapped a secure arm around her trapping her hands at her side. Bringing the gun up, he leveled it to her chest, and pressed the end between her breasts.

“Molly, my sweet Molly, we’ll be together forever” he told her with a serene look on his face as he cocked the pistol, poised and eagerly welcoming oblivion with her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I really need to watch more action movies.

He ran around the side of the dilapidated house; his feet pounded along the uneven ground littered with windswept debris; his breath came in short bursts as he struggled against the burn in his lungs, just a little further he willed his body.

He could just make out their silhouettes against the dark night sky; she was sagging against him, barely able to stay on her feet as he twisted her in a bruising grip. He scarcely made out the silver glint of the barrel of the gun as he waved it wildly in the air, only for it to come to rest between her breasts.

His breath caught in his lungs as his blood turned to ice and threatened to bring him to his knees. He could feel a cold sweat break out across his brow as panic and desperation started to creep into him. He desperately tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other as his traitorous mind was bombarded with images of her lifeless body laying on the blood soaked earth; her eyes vacant and dull, taunting him, accusing him of not getting to her sooner.

The sound of a snapping branch underfoot broke the silent night air, and at once startled Tom from his manic trance and had him spinning on the spot, his gun leveled towards the sound letting off two successive shots into the dark.

Molly could not help but let out a startled cry; her body shaking and breath heaving, the shot ringing in her ears.

As he heard the snap of the branch under his foot, inwardly he cursed as he saw them start to pivot towards him. Throwing himself forward, he flattened his self to the ground, but not before a flare of pain bit into his shoulder. Grunting, he pulled himself behind a tree, his mind racing. Levering himself to his feet, he sagging painfully against the tree.

“Who’s there?!” Tom screamed, his hand with the gun alternating, indecisively quivering in his out stretched hand, and jabbing it into Molly’s side.

Doubled over at the waist he drew in a ragged breath. Reaching a hand up to his shoulder, his fingers came away slick and sticky with blood. Winching, he placed his hands on his knees and he pushed himself up into a standing position.

Checking to make sure that the safety was clicked off on his gun, he replaced it into his side holster. Reaching his hands around the tree, palms up, he spoke in a quiet, subdued tone of voice.

“Easy there, I just want to talk. Is it okay if I come out so we can talk? I just want to thank you Tom”

His brows frowned in confusion, his concentration started to waver; the arm with the gun lowering slightly.

“Thank me?” he asked curiously, absently lowering his gun.

Seeing this, Mycroft held his hands up in a defensive manner and stepped out from behind the tree, “I’m coming out Tom.”

Upon seeing him, Tom’s whole body shook; his eyes sharp and accusing, but he was yet to make a move, interested in what the older man had to say.

With slow steps, Mycroft approached them.

“That’s enough” Tom ground out, his voice quivering as he raised his gun and shook it threateningly.

Tipping his head in acknowledgement, his eyes quickly flickered over to Molly. Looking up at him, Mycroft saw her eyes wide with fright and swimming with tears, her lips trembling, but not making much more than a soft whimpering sound that tore at his heart. Seeing her fear, but much more than that, her absolute trust and devotion in him, he steeled his resolve and clamped down on the searing pain in his shoulder and the dizziness that made his vision swim.

In a voice that sounded almost grateful, Mycroft continued, “I came here because I just wanted to thank you Tom; to thank you for all that you have done for Molly, for loving her; for being so good to her.”

At his praise, Tom’s chest puffed out in pride, and a smile lit his face, “Yeah... yeah, I did that didn’t I” he said as he lowered his arm with his gun and looked down at Molly with a look of adoration, his look far away not quite seeing the frightened woman in front of him, but rather the Molly that his mind’s eye always saw.

“Yes, you were so good to her, took such good care of her. You loved her and made her smile when all I did was made her cry and feel so alone” he said softly; the words tasted bitter in his mouth, but they were having the desired effect on the crazed man in front of him. He inched closer to the pair as Tom’s attention was turned away from him.

“But look at her now; she’s so scared Tom, look at her. I know you love her so much, it must be breaking your heart to see her so scared, so frightened” Mycroft told him gently.

Tom looked down at Molly, her eyes rimmed red and dried tear tracks marking her cheeks. He shook his head back and forth, “But she still chose you,” he rasped, his voice trembling with agitation and anger.

Mycroft stopped in his tracks and held stock still.

“You stole her from me!” Tom hissed. “You never deserved her; you don’t know or love her like I do!” he continued his voice climbing with hysteria.

Tom stalked closer to Mycroft, dragging a struggling Molly along with no heed. As he closed the gap between them, he could see the wild, desperate look in the other man’s eyes. He tried to keep his focus on the approach man, but couldn’t help but let his gaze catch her briefly; her eyes were begging with him, pleading with him to make this nightmare end. But he couldn’t take the shot without endangering Molly, but as soon as Tom slipped, he would be dead.

Stopping abruptly a foot in front of him, Tom thrust the gun into his chest, making him take a half step back, jarring his shoulder and making him hiss in pain. Tom advanced on him again and pressed the barrel of the gun to his chest, the hollow click of the gun cocking rang out. Both men’s eyes locked in a silent battle; one wild and crazed, the other calm and cold.

“If I can’t have her, no one will” he shouted.

Molly’s mind raced; with her heart beating loudly in her chest, she cried out hoarsely “Wait!”

Both their gazes turned to look at her. She caught Mycroft’s eyes briefly, before looking down and away, breaking their gaze, only to have it settle on Tom. With an inner strength that she didn’t know she possessed, she forced her eyes to go soft and gentle.

“I... I’m sorry Mycroft, I just ... I just can’t anymore. Tom... he was so good to me, I just didn’t realize it before. But now I do, and I think I can ... do love him too” she says quietly.

His arm wavers and softens as he is being pulled into Molly’s words. As she sees his arm waver, she takes a deep breath and slams her elbow back, knocking the air out of him, and slips from under his arm that loosens from around her as it goes to clutch his middle.

As he sees her break free, Mycroft quickly pulls the gun from his holster, and the next thing she hears is the crack of twin shots echoing through the air, followed by the thud of two bodies hitting the ground.

And then deafening silence.

**Author's Note:**

> TBC with a prequel and a sequel


End file.
